Dreams
by sammy921
Summary: It is new years eve and Soul thinks, maybe, Maka has had a little too much to drink... A story of healing, love, hope, and new dreams. Happy New year!


It was supposed to be a group thing, Soul thought as he laid out a blanket on the hard wood floor in front of his Meister's large open windows.

Black Star had wanted to throw a party to celebrate the new year, and the unseasonably warm December weather had encouraged them to arrange a rooftop party.

However, as soon as the food was prepared and the decorations hung, dark clouds had rolled over the mountains and drenched their plans.

It had been Maka's idea to move the party inside their shared apartment, but the dampness had seeped into Kid's bones, causing him to retreat back to his place with Liz and Patty in tow.

Black Star, despite all his enthusiasm, passed out drunk before the evening had even begun.

Soul had to help Tsubaki carry the lush down the stairs and stuff him in a cab.

Left to their own devices, and with the promise of going out the following night, Maka and Soul decided that it would be a bad decision to waste food and instead opted to have the picnic in her room.

They would bring in the new year together.

The rain was pouring down outside, letting the moist air into the room as Maka laid out the prepared foods on top of their picnic blanket.

Thunder would occasionally roll through the mountains, but it did little to dampen their spirits.

After working hard all year they were due for a break.

Food and drink was passed between them as easily as conversation and laughter, and even as the scant daylight faded to dark, they continued on.

At some point the electricity began to flicker from the storm. Soul got up to light a few candles before moving to close the window, only to abandon the motion when his meister whined saying that she liked the sound of rain.

Living in the desert they didn't get to enjoy the sight of rain too often.

Soul breathed in the damp air that drifted through the window.

That indescribable rain smell wafted his senses, putting him at ease.

Soul glances back from the window to his meister, she's been quiet for some time.

He swallows a laugh before it has the chance to escape.

Maka's cheeks are rosey and she's humming some unknown tune.

He had, maybe, let his meister drink a little more than she should.

It was a celebration after all and she was more than deserving of a little festivity in her life.

It wasn't every day they got to relax like this.

As Soul moved back to their little feast, his grin widened.

She had laid flat out across the empty plates and dishes in his short absence, uncaring of the mess she made as she contemplated the whorls on the ceiling.

Soul had to admit, as her one-sided conversation suddenly shifted in direction to something about whales and books, she was an awfully adorable drunk.

Soul sat softly beside her, grabbing a half empty bottle and refilling his glass with the amber liquid.

He looked down at her flushed cheeks and glazed eyes with mock seriousness as she conveyed ideas of utmost importance to him.

Soul, for his part, nodded sagely and informed his meister of the wisdom of her observations at appropriate intervals, while low key clearing as many of the plates and dishes as she would allow.

Unfortunately, she seemed to be terribly unwilling to move off of the blue plate digging into her back.

He tried not to chuckled at her stubbornness.

He would take care of the plate later... maybe after she passed out and he carried her to bed.

Soul glanced longingly at his own room across the hall from hers.

The alcohol made him feel warm and content, and his bed was sounding more and more tempting by the minute.

But... being here like this with his meister was far sweeter than any dream he could conjure up while sleeping.

He liked seeing her like this, with starlight in her eyes and a soft smile on her lips.

It did strange things to his heart.

Maka rolls her head slowly and smiles up at him.

"What are you thinking about?"

He smiles back down at her, trying to ignore the ache in his chest.

The ache that she unknowingly puts there.

"I was thinking about the new year. I hope it's much better than this year was."

"Was this a bad year for you?" She asks, concern lacing her voice.

"No, it wasn't a bad year at all. I just... didn't accomplish everything I set out to do this year. I guess you could say I have some regrets."

"I see. I feel the same way too sometimes. Like a piece of me is still incomplete. Like having a dream that I haven't accomplished yet." She says, her eyes heavy with wine.

"A dream?" Soul asks, his curiosity oddly piqued. "What dreams do you have Maka?"

"I'll tell you mine, but only if you tell me your deepest dreams and desires fist." She chuckles softly, followed my a hiccup.

Soul blushes at her words. "I'd rather not."

How the hell could he tell her that she was the object of his every dream and desire?

"No fun!" She says, her voice teasing.

A strong wind passes through suddenly, rapping the panes harshly against the wall and blowing out half of the candles that Soul had lit.

It startles Maka into silence, and Soul decides that no matter how lovely the sound of rain may be, it is definitely time to close the windows.

Getting up, he latches them shut and grabs a still burning candle to reignite the extinguished ones.

Noting that Maka is still silent, he looks up to see if she has finally passed out, only to see her eyes glittering at him in the dim light.

He smiles gently at her and moves back to the blanket once more, thinking that perhaps it is time for her to go to bed.

But as he settles next to her and mentally prepares himself for the arduous task of convincing a drunk person that the night is finished, her brows furrow and her head tilts in curiosity.

He decides that he can perhaps wait a little longer, wanting to know whatever new thought had put that expression on her face.

"Where are you from?" she asks, her neck tilting in an awkward angle and her hair fanned out beneath her.

_ Ah… perhaps that was a poor decision._

He lets out a small laugh, oddly caught off-guard.

He had wondered, in the early days, how long it would take for her to start asking these questions.

He had been ready with an endless supply of nonsensical answers, each one more fantastic than the other, and all of which currently escape him.

It seemed his meister was far, far more patient than he had ever anticipated, for they had been partners for years without her ever once asking.

She had never asked about his life before the DWMA, before meeting her.

He had chalked it up to her desire to not pry in other people's lives, but alcohol had never been a friend to his meister's tact.

"Far, far from here, Maka." he replies ruefully, contemplating how to move her from her spot on the floor to her much warmer and far more comfortable bed.

She pauses then, and he can see the wheels turning in her brain.

It's obvious that she's trying to work out whether or not he is avoiding the topic, but he's given her more of an answer than anyone else, so that is maybe what makes her decide to press on.

"Do you… Do you have anyone out there, waiting for you? Your family?"

He sighs, crossing his legs and settling his body back down against the floor, a faint bloom of discomfort twisting in his chest. He reaches up to rub his shoulder, looking out at the patterns that the rain is making on the window.

The pain is dull, almost nonexistent.

He barely remembers those early days, and doesn't really know what it means to have people to go back to.

"No, Maka, I don't suppose I do. My family abandoned me a long time ago."

He hears her soft hum, and part of him hopes that she is finished with this line of questioning.

But another part of him, the part of him he lost to her long ago, hopes that she will continue.

Her lips part wetly, voice still soft and calming.

It's purposeful, he realizes with a small smile.

At least she is aware, even when she is drunk, of just how hard this is for him.

"…How long were you alone? Before me, I mean."

His voice tilts wistfully, trapped between warring emotions, "What makes you think I was alone?"

There's a pause and the air between them becomes heavy. "I know," she says, and despite the softness with which the words were spoken, there is steel there and… understanding.

He turns his head towards her briefly, face serious.

She's not looking at him, though. She has closed her eyes, her hands resting gently on top of her stomach.

A bitter smile twists his lips and he decides _What's the harm_?

Relaxing the muscles that have tensed without his knowledge, he scratches his head, pretending to be thoughtful.

"Ah… well, my family didn't want me. I was a freak."

It sounds evasive, he realizes, and they both know it. But it's a habit that is hard to break.

If only he knew how to speak it, he thinks that perhaps he would tell her everything.

Maka swallows in response, her eyes still closed, but her face looks more sober than it has in several hours.

She's mulling over something, as if she is not sure if she can cross this line with him, not sure how long she can question him before he stops talking altogether.

After a moment, she decides to cut to the quick. "... Did they hurt you, Soul?"

_That's the harm_, he realizes, shock lacing through him.

He draws back slightly, lips parted, and he feels wary around her for the first time in years.

The discomfort always present in his chest intensifies, becoming more immediate, colder.

But she still isn't even looking at him; the faint glow from the candles frame her face in light and shadows and he can't gauge her intentions anymore.

The rain taps against the window, the only sound other than their breaths, and Soul realizes that some time has passed since she asked him the question.

Part of him wonders if she may have fallen asleep, but he knows from the way her fingers clutch at her stomach that she is not.

She's giving him time, maybe, or she is scared that she has gone too far, but there was no demand behind her words.

He doesn't have to answer her if he doesn't want to.

He almost doesn't.

After a long moment, he breathes out, thinking himself foolish for being worried.

This is his Meister, his very best friend. If she was going to run or judge him, it would have probably been back then when they first met.

He had been so standoffish and angry back then. His meister had been a saint all these years, being patient and kind to him.

Over the years she has slowly healed his wounds, making him whole again.

He swallows, uncomfortable. "Yes. They hurt me."

Maka's hand reaches out and gently lays it on his arm. Her fingers are cold but he feels the warmth of her comfort.

"You were so young." She whispers. "Why would they do that to you?"

"I think, maybe, I first used my blades when I was... 8? I'm not sure to be honest. After that I was locked away. They were afraid of me. Didn't understand my gift as a weapon."

"That doesn't justify abuse." Maka says quietly.

"I know." Soul sighs.

Her face squeezes, looking pained. The skin around her eyes swell slightly and her chest shudders for a moment.

He dearly hopes that she doesn't cry. If she starts crying… he doesn't think he will be able to continue.

He doesn't want her pity.

Soul shifts slightly, preparing to stand, to wish her goodnight and to end this awful conversation, but her hand that had been resting on his forearm reaches out and gently pulls him towards her.

He falls awkwardly on one elbow next to her, bracing himself with the palm of his other hand.

Her hand slides down his arm until it finds his free hand and she laces her fingers through his, turning her body towards him and squeezing his hand ever so slightly.

Her eyes open and she looks at him fully, her emerald eyes still hazy with wine but clear in their intentions.

He is… relieved to find no pity there. Only sadness.

"I've always wondered about these." She says as she gently runs her thumb across the deep scars adorning his knuckles.

Memories flash behind his eyes: about being locked in a cabinet and the musty smell of his small unwashed body, about the splatter of blood falling against hardwood and of the marks on his hands that just won't fade.

He pauses, drawing in a shuddering breath, and swallows, trying to clear a path for his voice.

"...they're from my father. He tried to remove my blades with a dull kitchen knife."

Maka sucks in a breath but remains quiet, silently urging him to continue.

"I don't remeber much, I had been on the road for a long time, surviving however I could. Until Lord death finally found me, offered me a home and a new life. I think I mentally blocked a lot before then though."

Soul shudders at the few glimpses of his past that do slip through.

"I, I do remember my father striking my mom one night, they were fighting over me again. I lost control of my weapon form, I blacked out. I came to standing in a room full of my fathers blood, my mother screaming. After that I ran away, to escape the torture, but also to escape the guilt I felt. I hate my parents, but I still regret what I did to this day."

"You were a child then, frightened and alone. You shouldn't feel guilty for what happened in the past."

"These hands, they have blood on them Maka, doesn't that bother you?"

He hears Maka draw a sharp inhale of breath, and he can think of nothing but retreating.

_This is it,_ he thinks, the chill tightening around his heart.

He shifts to move again, before she can reject him herself.

He turns back to her, an oddly shaped smile on his face and a quip just at the tip of his tongue.

Anything, anything at all to divert her attention from this.

But somehow, he doesn't know how, she has gotten so close.

He can feel her breath on his face and see her green eyes shimmering in the half shadows.

But he can barely make out the expression on her face and, inexplicably, she tugs him closer.

And, against his better reasoning, he lets her.

She pulls his hand to the space above her heart, cradled against her chest, and curls her arm around his protectively while still keeping their fingers entwined.

His heart starts to pound as she looks directly at him, and in the dying light, he can see her hand very purposefully pull his to her lips, pressing one full kiss to the back of his knuckles.

She reaches out with her other hand, making a beckoning motion, and he stupidly turns fully towards her and gives her the other.

She gathers it close and presses one more firm, dry kiss to the back of that hand.

The breath drains out of him.

There is a long moment where she just looks at him, an incomprehensible emotion swirling in her forest eyes.

"You know, Soul," she whispers after some time, her voice soft and intimate as her thumbs drag lightly across his knuckles, "I've never known your hands to be anything but safe."

His eyes widen, heart beating rapidly in his chest as he feels something… move… inside of him.

Something soften.

"Maka," he breathes, the soft padding of the rain against the windows nearly swallowing his voice entirely.

"The past...," Maka says hesitantly, "no matter how heartbreaking is so far away now."

She reaches out to lightly touch his face.

"There are some things you will never forget about your past, but you have to move forward and not dwell on those things. Your past might have shaped you, but it doesn't define who you are now."

Soul nods, his eyes closing at her touch.

Maka would never truly know how much peace she brought into his life.

How she calmed the storms within him.

Maybe one day he could find the right words to tell her.

Somewhere in their home a clock chimes 12 times, signaling midnight.

"Happy new year Maka." Soul chokes, his emotions cracking.

"Happy new year Soul." She smiles softly at him.

"Let's chase our dreams this year, that way next new year we will meet here again and have no regrets."

"Soul nods, a small smile softens his features.

He leans in suddenly and places a lingering kiss on her forehead.

It's the first kiss he's ever given her. It's the only way he knows how to express his emotions in this moment. To show how much he needs and appreciates her.

She must see something in his eyes in that moment, because the intensity melts in her own.

She smiles, so gently, and squeezes his hands once more before letting go. He immediately misses their warmth.

_I've fucked up_, he panicks as she pulls away from him. Before he can worry too much though Maka pulls him flush against her in a hug.

"What was that for?" She asks, a light blush staining her cheeks.

"You said I should chase my dreams." He murmurs sheepishly.

"You're all I ever dream about, Maka."

She reaches up to trace her fingers across his eyebrows in a soothing motion, and the worry goes out of him entirely.

"We have the same dreams then." She whispers.

Soul doesn't know what to say so he drags her closer, holding her tighter.

"Thank you Maka... I, would be so lost without you."

"You forget that I need you just as much as you need me." She says as she hugs him fiercely.

They hold each other that way for an unknown amount of time, neither willing to let go of the other.

She yawns deeply, bringing Soul back to his senses.

He really needed to put his meister to bed. The hour was growing late and he shouldn't keep her up any later.

"Thank you for letting me share a little bit of myself with you tonight." He says as he untangles his arms from her. "I have kept you up far to late, and for that I am sorry. Let's get you to bed now. We can talk more in the morning."

"Can you stay with me tonight?" she murmurs.

His eyes flutter shut. The maelstrom of emotions inside of him not knowing how to process such a request.

_ This is different from the other times_, he thinks, emotions swirling and breaking apart into smaller and sharper feelings.

There's no storm, bad dreams, or terrible heartbreak to justify them staying in the same room, the same bed.

He looks at her, opening his mouth to protest, but she beats him to it.

"I don't think you should be alone tonight."

He looks at her, slightly bewildered. "I'm fine Maka, don't worry about me. Talking to you helped me feel some closure tonight. There's no need for me to share your bed."

"Well I'm also drunk and I'm a little cold. Maybe I need you more than you need me tonight."

There is a small smile on her lips, almost playful.

It's not a complete lie. It is chilly outside, but … how can she expect him to-?

He silences his thinking. Perhaps he has had too much to drink, too, because against all his better judgments, against the reasoning screaming in his head that he doesn't deserve to be this close to her, he decides that tonight, just for tonight, he'll be selfish and accept the comfort she is offering.

"Yes, my meister," he breathes.

She beams, humming a happy sound, and settles against him.

Soul smiles down at her, bemused, and shifts his weight as he glances at the bed only a feet away, before looking back down.

She is curled up against his torso, the heat from her small body bleeding through his clothes and through the worst of the cold that has settled in his chest.

And he can't help but think just how perfect she looks there.

But he can't justify this degree of selfishness just so he can look at her this way, not when they could both be so much more comfortable.

He wraps his arms around her, lifting both of them off of the hard floor, and feels his lips stretch just a bit more when she curls into him.

Laying her gently on her bed, he slides off her shoes before slipping her underneath the bedding.

Her hand reaches out once more to grab his, perhaps thinking that he was going to try to escape back to his room, but she relaxes once he turns his smile towards her.

She lets go of his arm so he can sit on the edge of the bed, removing his own shoes.

And then his heart is back in his throat, nerves firing as he tentatively, awkwardly, comes to lay beside her on top of the blankets.

Maka turns on her side to face him, eyes open and clear as they look into his.

And he looks back, unflinching, unable to comprehend what she seems to be trying to tell him.

This is uncharted territory, and emotions roll and snap uncertainly between them.

After some time, her eyes start to get heavier. Her lashes flutter, but she's fighting it, stubbornness furrowing her brow.

He can see her struggling to keep that connection a little longer, wanting to show him that she is here for him.

Her breath eventually smooths out though, and her eyes flutter completely shut, her face relaxing into a deep sleep.

Soul stares at her for a long time, watching the way her body rises and falls with her faint breath. The rain has slowed, dully tapping against the windows in a rhythmic pattern, and it gently lulls him towards sleep.

He fights it as valiantly as she did moments ago, not ready for this moment to end or the strange peace in his heart to fade into nothingness.

But there is nothing to keep him awake anymore and the heat of her seeps through his skin and into his bones.

Daring, _just this once_, he wraps his arms around her, tucking her head beneath his chin before closing his eyes.

And, _just this once_, he reminds himself, he allows himself to dream.

Fin.

* * *

Happy New Year everyone!

I hope that in 2020 you follow your heart and that all your wishes come true.

Love endlessly, never stop laughing, and always remember to never stop dreaming.

-Much love, Sammy921.


End file.
